The Five Stages of Grief
by ItsADuckStupid
Summary: The men in Sydney's life try to help her through the stages [Complete]
1. Denial

Title: The Five Stages of Grief

Author: Duck

Genre: Angst. 

Rating: PG-13

Timeline: Anytime after 'Phase One'

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Although, if the world were perfect, Michael Vartan would belong to me. 

Distribution: Cover Me, Allies, SD-1, anyone else, just ask. 

A/N: I did my research on. york-united-kingdom.co.uk/funerals/grief/. It's a pretty good read. 

Summary: When grieving due to a loss or bereavement there are considered to be 5 stages

_Denial: a psychological defense mechanism in which confrontation with a personal problem or with reality is avoided by denying the existence of the problem or reality._

  
The man waiting shifted uncomfortably in a plastic chair, hoping his spine would conform to the straight-backed edge. 

  
"William Tippin?" Will looked up sharply, the older woman watching him patiently from the doorframe. He rose awkwardly, trying not to trip over the other chairs as he followed the doctor into her office. Credentials hung ceremoniously, covering the dull beige wallpaper, and giving Will the sense of being in the principal's office. 

  
The woman settled herself behind a desk, arranging papers, and settling her glasses on the edge of her nose. Staring up expectantly at the hesitant man before her, she motioned to the seat across, hoping he would take the hint. As he settled, she took in his appearance. Haggard, frustrated, and definitely laced with fatigue. 

  
Nodding and allowing a thin smile to grace her lips, the woman introduced herself. "I'm Dr. Judy Barnett. One thing was unclear to me, is this visit by request, or was it ordered?"

  
Will glanced nervously at the clipboard she was holding before replying, "Both, actually."

  
"Oh?" she asked, eyebrows rose. "You are an undercover analyst, correct?"

  
"Yes." Will confirmed, "I started a few months ago. I was recruited after discovering my friend was an agent."

  
"Sydney Bristow?"

  
"Yes." Will looked at her, frustrated. "But I'm not here to talk about myself."

  
"Then why are you here, Mr. Tippin?" Dr. Barnett asked casually, trying to calm him.

  
"Sydney is in denial, and we can't snap her into reality," Will explained, eyes downcast, "We don't know what to do."

  
"What is she denying, exactly?"

  
Tears filled Will's eyes, and his throat began to block up. After trying unsuccessfully to regain composure he managed to choke out something incoherent. 

  
"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to repeat that."

  
"Francie-her friend--our friend- was killed. Mur--murdered." A single tear coursed its way down Will's cheek, dripping onto his tightly folded hands. Clearing his throat, he continued slowly. 

  
"We didn't realize she was dead for a long time. Even now, we're not completely sure how--how long she's been dead."

  
Dr. Barnett's eyes glanced up swiftly from her notes. "Was she missing?"

  
A twisted smile worked its way onto Will's features. His voice returned completely, allowing him to speak clearly. "Only in spirit."

  
Lifting his eyes into her curious gaze, Will repeated everything he had been told. "There was a machine or treatment -something- that could transform a certain gene sequence to match that of another. The person who received this 'gene therapy' could take on the physical characteristics of another human being. Francie was the first test subject that was successful. Sydney and I had almost no idea that Francie wasn't the same person - they looked exactly alike. There were a few things that were off, of course. New Francie didn't have her memories or feelings, so we both got a strange vibe from her. 

  
"A few months after SD-6's takedown, Sydney was out on a date, leaving Francie and I alone. She drew a gun and was about to kill me when Syd and her date walked in. I guess the movie had been sold out, but anyway, Mike had a gun on him, so he drew that. Francie shot him, and while she was distracted, I tackled her. Sydney got the gun, but Francie found Michael's. They both sort of stared at each other, and Syd asked her, 'How could you Francie, and how long have you hated me?' Francie answered, 'Francie died months ago. I killed her with a single bullet.'

  
"I don't really know what happened after that because I blacked out, but when I woke up, Francie was dead, and Sydney was standing over Michael. We got him to a hospital, and Francie to the CIA," Will finished tiredly, glancing through the blinded windows to his left. 

  
Dr. Barnett surveyed him silently, and urged him on when he showed no signs of continuing. "Is she refusing to admit that Francie is dead?"

  
Sighing deeply, he thought back to the week after, and only the day before. "She does Fran's laundry, or will set a place for her at dinner. She rented Francie's favorite movie because she thought the restaurant was having problems. I've lost count of how many times she's called me, asking why the restaurant was closed. And when she'd go visit Mike in the hospital, she'd always tell him that he needed to be more careful on missions, like that was where he got shot. We've both tried telling her, even her father has tried, but she just won't listen," he concluded, the tears continuing their journey across his cheekbones. 

  
"How long has it been?" Dr. Barnett handed Will a tissue box, glad he was able to freely express his emotions. 

  
"Nearly three weeks. Mike just got out of the hospital, so that's helping, but we want her to realize Francie is not coming back."

  
After writing a few notes to herself, Dr. Barnett gave Will a kind smile. Adjusting her glasses, she spoke softly, "I'm afraid there isn't anything we can do. Sydney is going through the first stage of grief. Denial is common, but untreatable. There are a few things you can do, such as reminding her of the funeral, and make sure you do not play along. If she sets an extra place, put it away. Considering that this is Ms. Bristow, she will most likely return to reality with a breakdown. The only thing that you can do is be there for her." She rose gracefully from her chair to shake Will's hand. "It was good to talk to you, Mr. Tippin. Feel free to stop by anytime."

  
Will smiled sadly as he headed towards the door. Before walking through, he turned around and asked quietly, "Mike and I have been trying to get Sydney in here, but she refuses. If--when she gets through the denial, what should we expect?"

  
Dr. Barnett sighed tiredly, sitting back down at her desk. "Anger. She'll blame everyone, especially herself."

  
Will looked at his shoes, saddened, before slowly walking out.


	2. Anger

_Anger is a feeling of keen displeasure (usually with a desire to punish) for what we regard as wrong toward ourselves or others. It may be excessive or misplaced, but is not necessarily criminal_

Three men sat outside an office, each wearing a mask of sadness. Two were well worn, but one man was just learning he had one. They had been sitting in an uncomfortable silence for well over an hour, each there one reason: the woman they loved. Three men that loved Sydney Bristow: a father, a lover, and a friend, all united by this one woman. They try to protect her, save her. That is why they are there; waiting. 

A woman called them in, all together, and each man walked slowly towards the tiny office. Sadness numbed their movements, each just going through the motions. Three chairs awaited them ominously, blending with the dull beige walls and carpet. 

"Please, take a seat," Dr. Barnett urged, hoping to quicken their syrupy speed. Once they were seated, all looking uncomfortable, the doctor took in their appearances. 

Jack Bristow, highly esteemed agent, looked more fatigued than she had ever seen him. Usually when he was in her office, his facial expressions were carefully controlled, but the man before her gave off a feeling of depression and slight anxiety. 

Will Tippin was still uncomfortable in her office, picking at his pants and staring at the plaques behind her head. Although, she noted, he seemed at ease with the two men sitting next to him. Thinking back to the Taipei incident, she remembered that Jack was the one to rescue him from the clutches of Sark. As for the man on his left, Will had referred to Agent Vaughn as "Mike", so they were obviously on friendly terms. Any other agent would feel discomfited when sat in a room with Agent Bristow and Agent Vaughn, but Will Tippin was not bothered by their presence. 

Looking over to Michael Vaughn, she immediately noticed the sling that supported his left arm. She had gone over his medical reports before they arrived, and they stated that he was shot in the left shoulder, narrowly missing any vital organs. The way he shifted the sling every couple seconds suggested that he was ready to discard it, but was obviously ordered to wear it. Dr. Barnett looks closely at the expression he wore, one of tired frustration. Her grief was taking a large toll on all of their demeanors. 

"I've asked you to talk with me regularly about Sydney's condition. Thank you for coming." All three men nodded slightly, waiting for her to continue. "Has she gotten through her denial?"

Jack spoke first, relaying the past week. "Yes. We had dinner one night, and we all did what you suggested. When I left she was still in denial, but when I came back the next day she wasn't."

Interrupting, Will added, "Mike and I got out an old movie, one Francie hated. Halfway through, Syd broke down. We just let her cry." He nodded to Vaughn, who continued. 

"She cried herself to sleep, but had nightmares all night." His eyes clouded over at the memory. 

"What did you do?"

"The only thing I could do. I held her," he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It helped, but only minimally." He shifted the sling again. "The next day she wouldn't even talk to anyone, went jogging for nearly four hours, and when she got back she just slammed doors and took a bath."

"We've been watching her to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, but she gets angry, says we're coddling her." Will looked at his hands. "She's taking all the blame for this, and I'm afraid it might kill her."

Dr. Barnett's eyebrows rose. "You really think she would end her life because she feels guilty?"

Vaughn answered for him. "I've seen Sydney in every emotional state there is, but I've never seen her like this. As wrong as it sounds, and is, Sydney is used to this, but she's not taking it the way she usually does. She won't speak, and spends hours just running. She's lashed out anytime Will or I try to talk to her, and we would just stay away, but I'm afraid."

Jack had been listening quietly, but now retold an incident. "I said something to provoke her so she would vent her anger, and wouldn't bottle it up. I've never seen her place blame so loosely, she was accusing us all of being blind and how stupid we all were. When she quieted, Sydney told me she should have protected Francie better. Nothing I said could convince her otherwise." He looked Dr. Barnett straight in the eye. "We're doing the best we can, but I'm not sure if it's enough."

Looking down to her notepad, the doctor smiled softly. "Sydney is a very lucky woman to have men like you who care for her so much." Taking on a serious tone, she added, "What you've done is exactly what I would have told you to do. The main thing is to let her release the anger. If she holds everything in, recovery is only harder to achieve. As for the threat of suicide, Ms. Bristow has never displayed behavior that would grant that danger. I highly doubt she would be able to go through ending her own life before finding the people who did this to Ms. Calfo. However, there is the threat of self-mutilation, which is completely common for the stage of grief that she is in. Keep an eye on her."

The three men nodded. Later they would assign shifts to watch over Sydney, but for now they were concerned with getting out of the seemingly shrinking office. 

"Thank you for the update. I'll be asking one of you to give me a weekly report on Ms. Bristow's condition."

Jack walked out first, followed closely by Will and Vaughn. Will commented dryly to Vaughn, "I thought she was going to tell us good luck. That seemed almost like a pep talk."

"Good Luck," Dr. Barnett's voice called, making Will turn purple from embarrassment.   
"Do they have bugs all over this damn place?"

Next Chapter: Bargaining

"My daughter went to church for the first time in nearly 20 years"


	3. Bargaining

Bargaining can be with ourselves or if you are religious with your god. Often we will offer something to try to take away the reality of what has happened. We may try to make a deal, to have our loved one back as they were before the tragic event occured.

"Jack, hello. Hold on a moment." Dr. Barnett scribbled furiously on the legal pad on her desk as Jack Bristow sat stiffly in one of the chairs opposite her. Smiling as she finished the doctor folder her hands on top of the smooth mahogany desk. "How's Sydney doing? Has she done anything unusual?"

Jack thought back to the day before, and was swept back into the memory. 

_The door was cool to the touch, and heavy when he pulled on the ornamented handles. Breathing the spiced air deep into his lungs, Jack was reminded of his youth, the Sundays his parents would bring him to Church to listen to sermons that lasted for hours. _

_  
The sanctuary that he entered was much like the one he took Sydney to as a child. Laura had not been raised in religion, but Jack felt it was necessary for Sydney to experience sitting in wooden pew and listening to a man preach. They stopped when Laura died, and when Jack ceased to be "Daddy". Neither had returned to a place of worship since. _

_  
He could see her brown hair cascading in front of her face, not quite blocking her features from view. From the angle he stood, light illuminated the teardrops that dripped from her chin onto her folded hands, giving him the feeling she was crying light from her eyes. _

_  
Not many things could upset Jack Bristow, but somehow seeing his daughter pray for the first time in twenty years unnerved him. _

_  
Taking a seat in the back row of the pews, he continued to observe Sydney, from the way her hair fell to the way her lips moved quickly in prayer. The words were undistinguishable from his vantage point, but he knew deep down that his daughter was asking for something._

_   
Suddenly feeling terrible out of place and conspicuous, Jack left the quiet sanctuary. Once outside he let out a long breath; he had unknowingly been holding it in during his visit. There was a part of him, buried deep within his childhood that was terrified of being condemned for the life he led. But then his mind sharply reminded him that it was all foolish nonsense, and he returned to his car to wait for Sydney to exit. _

_  
_"My daughter went to church for the first time in nearly twenty years," he replied stoically, fixing his gaze on the plaques behind the doctor's head. 

"And?" Dr. Barnett asked, somewhat annoyed. "That's common for people who have suffered loss. Why is that unusual to you?"

"Sydney always saw Church as something linked to me. I was always the one to take her, so once we became estranged, she refused to go." 

Dr. Barnett tapped her fingers on the clipboard; sessions with Agent Bristow were trying because he was so guarded. Hardly anything was ever revealed during his visits. Her annoyance was stifled, however, when he began to talk on his own accord. 

"Seeing her pray, it gave me the feeling she thought that she was out of options. Perhaps she thinks turning to God will bring her friend back.

"I know Sydney is a rational person, but it seems like every thing she has ever believed in has gone out the window once again." Jack looked at his hands briefly before returning his eyes to the plaques. "She turned in a letter of resignation this morning. I didn't order it through, however. She's not emotionally stable, and I know she wants Sloane captured before she leaves the Agency."

You think it's a possibility that she thinks quitting the CIA will restore her friend? I imagine Ms. Bristow to have a better grip on reality than you portray."

Jack's eyes turned stone cold, and for the first time his eyes met those of the doctors. "I think I know my daughter better than you could ever understand. So many personal deaths have taken a huge toll on her emotional state. This last one has sent her over the edge."

"That's understandable. And what you are saying is a common stage of grief; bargaining to return the loved one. You know that as well as I do," she added knowingly. Jack Bristow knew too well all the stages of grief. 

Nodding briskly, Jack made as if to leave. "Are we finished?"

"Almost. How did you know Sydney was at the church?"

His eyes hardened once again, and the fatigue was made clear under his eyes. "Agent Vaughn, and Mr. Tippin and I have been monitoring Sydney constantly. One of us always knows where she is and what she is doing."

Frowning slightly, she asked, "Hasn't she noticed?"

"No. And that's what worries me." Jack thought to their shifts: Vaughn had the night, Will watched her in the mornings, and Jack was designated for the afternoons. There was always the chance of relief: their shifts were constantly changing by Sydney's schedule. "We're keeping her safe." He rose swiftly, ending the conversation. 

Dr. Barnett rose as well. "Thank you for the report. I'll expect to hear from someone in a few days." She watched Jack leave the office, smiling sadly at the amount of care Sydney Bristow received. 

Settling herself down, the doctor jotted some more notes before the next agent arrived. 

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! This chapter was a total b**** to write, and the only way I got through it was because of Elektra. She's awesome. 


	4. Depression

A/N: I have to give the biggest shout out ever to Elektra. She seriously saved my ass. Most of the ideas were hers, cause I had absolutely no idea how to write this chapter. You can also thank her for the pumped up angst, cause what I had written before was non descriptive. But, thanks to her welcome prodding, I managed to get something better out. I happen to be extremely proud of this chapter, cause it was so fun to write. Thanks Elektra, for staying up until 2 in the morning to finish this with me.  
"Agent Vaughn, you can come in now," Dr. Barnett called from behind the partially opened door. He pushed it open and settled himself in the chair he had come to loathe sitting in.  
  
The doctor settled her glasses on the bridge of her nose before glancing at the Vaughn. The fist thing she noticed was the absence of the sling on his left arm. "How's the shoulder?"  
  
Vaughn shifted the shoulder in question and had to catch himself to stop from wincing. "Better."  
  
"So how is Ms. Bristow doing?" she asked, getting used to the question she seemed to be asking quite often.  
  
"Sydney stopped eating a couple days ago. Will and I do everything we can to get her to eat, but it's been very difficult because as soon as she gets home from work, she falls asleep. And she sleeps until her alarm goes off. On her day off yesterday, I called in around 3 to see if she was ok, and she had been sleeping all day. I know that's a symptom of depression, and Will and I are doing everything we can to lift her mood. It only works occasionally."  
  
Dr. Barnett stared him down, eyes cast over with worry. "Has she exhibited any suicidal behavior?"  
  
Vaughn returned the gaze easily, and answered a with a firm "No."  
  
But he was lying.  
  
***She thought he didn't notice the powder she slipped into his drink, but he did. He pretended to down the whole glass, but he didn't. It was something they taught everyone early at Langley, how to avoid being poisoned, and he had aced the course.  
  
So she thought he passed out after dinner while he was heading toward the bed to lay down, because his head was starting to hurt. She was kind enough to help him finish the journey, hoisting his legs onto the mattress and sitting beside him. She kissed his lips gently while stroking his cheek, and it was all he could do to not kiss her back.  
  
"I love you, but I can't stand this any longer. Please forgive me."  
  
He watched through slit eyelids as she approached the window. Resting one balled fist against the glass, he could see the tears falling down her cheeks by the moonlight. Her jaw moved, and she spoke, for what she thought would be the last time.  
  
"Oh god Francie. I never wanted to put you in danger, and I was selfish to let you get so close to me. I killed you, just like I killed Danny. I have to end this now, so I don't kill Vaughn or Will or anyone else. I love you so much, sweetie." She moved her fist back, and punched the window, shattering a pane and leaving a dangerously jagged shard close to her hand.  
  
Vaughn decided then was the time to move, so he leapt off the bed to stop her. She, however, didn't want to be stopped. The tears kept coming faster, and she clutched the glass so tightly in her palm that blood dripped onto the windowsill. "Don't come near me Vaughn. I need to do this."  
  
He could feel the tears pushing themselves at his eyes, but he shook them away. He needed to be able to see. Slowly moving closer, he whispered to her, "You really think you need to kill yourself to protect me?"  
  
She backed away, the piece of glass still in her fist dripping blood. Her back was against a wall, and she felt completely cornered and alone. "It's the only way."  
  
He shook his head, and continued to approach her slowly. "No, Syd, it's not. Think of how selfish you're being! You want to leave everyone that loves you behind? I don't know how I can live without you. So if you die, I die." He picked another shard up by the window. "We can go together, but I want to be holding you. Please, don't deny me that."  
  
She shook her head firmly, the tears spraying everywhere. "No. You don't need to die, Vaughn. You can find someone else to love, to hold you at night. This is the end for me. Please, put it down."  
  
He shook his head, determined to go with her. "No. Either I die with you in my arms, or not. If this is the end for you, then it's the end for me. You give me everything I need to live for Sydney, and only you can give that to me. You die, I die." He started to press the glass against the delicate skin of his wrist, but her frantic yell stopped him from actually cutting it.  
  
"No!" The bloodied shard dropped from her grasp as she lurched forward and grabbed Vaughn by his neck. He let go of the glass immediately and hugged her tight. Her legs chose that moment to give out on her, and all of her weight was set in his embrace. She was whispering feverishly, clinging to him. "You can't die. You can't die." He wasn't used to so much weight on his shoulder, and had to sit her on the bed. He only left her there for a moment, though.  
  
Scooping her shaking form into his arms, he carried her to his car and deposited her in the passenger seat. It was difficult, considering he had been shot in the shoulder barely two months before, but he managed it.  
  
They spent the night at his apartment, arms wrapped securely around her waist, and positioned away from any windows.***  
  
Careful not to cloud his expression at the memory, Vaughn kept his eyes just above the doctor's head. If he told her the truth, the complete story, they would have Sydney in confinement so fast his head would spin. She didn't need that.  
  
Dr. Barnett's voice cut across his thoughts, nagging him accusingly. "I can't help her if you don't tell me everything."  
  
Vaughn's expression hardened into a cool mask that reminded Dr. Barnett of the elder Bristow, and she sighed in frustration. They were so alike sometimes it nearly scared her.  
  
"Jack took away her field clearance temporarily, and she didn't even care. No yelling, protesting, hell, she didn't even complain. All she did was nod her head and continued working on reports." He was glad when Jack did it, but was not happy with her reaction. It gave him the feeling he lost her.  
  
"That doesn't sound like Ms. Bristow."  
  
Vaughn chuckled grimly. "The Sydney I know would be yelling furiously at me, Jack, Kendall, anyone. She likes to think she can handle anything. This Sydney.she just doesn't care."  
  
Dr. Barnett nodded solemnly. "It's a common symptom of depression. Everything you've said is a common symptom, which surprises me. I would have thought Ms. Bristow to be more original. The best treatment is counseling, but you've mentioned that she refuses. Do you think she'll be willing to talk about it with you?"  
  
Vaughn considered the thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes, we've been through a lot. She trusts me. I'll try to get her to talk."  
  
Dr. Barnett smiled gently. "When you were missing in Taipei, she referred to you as the only person she trusted. I'm glad that's still the case."  
  
Vaughn rose stiffly from the straight-backed chair, grateful to be out of time. "I need to get back to the Ops center. Someone will have another report for you in a few days."  
  
The doctor nodded up to him, dismissing him. As he was walking out of the building, his cell phone rang.  
  
"Christopher's Window Pane Service. You have a broken window?" 


	5. Acceptance

_Acceptance: The final stage of grief. It is when you realize that life has to go on. You can here accept your loss. You should now be able to regain your energy and goals for the future. It may take some time to get here but you will_

A loud tapping sound was heard at the door of Dr. Barnett's office, and she yelled for the person to come in. Much to her surprise, it was Agent Bristow that walked in, not Mr. Tippin as she had been expecting. 

The experienced agent took a seat in the chair across from her, looking slightly uncomfortable. She spoke firmly, holding her chin high with a resolution. "I'm ready to talk."

The doctor folded her hands neatly across the desk, nodding her head to Sydney. "Why don't you start at the beginning? I've had an outside view of how you were feeling, but I'd like to hear it from you."

She smiled grimly, almost not knowing where to begin. "I'd always had dreams, well, nightmares really, of my career ending Francie's life. They became so regular I'd grow somewhat immune. When it actually happened, I thought it was just the most vivid dream ever. I always thought I was dreaming, so I tried to protect myself from feeling the pain, because I'd wake up soon, and Francie would be alive. It took weeks for me to realize the dull aching was real pain, and Francie was really dead. I wasn't asleep."

"Francie hates this movie...oh god." She broke down in Vaughn's arms, sobbing in agony of the loss she just now realized to be true. She stayed like that for at least an hour, rocking back and forth until her water supply ran dry and the fatigue settled over her eyes. Collapsing heavily into Vaughn's embrace, she dozed heavily. Her night visions were filled with blood, Francie's blood, and with the sound of guns firing in the distance. Moments after the gunshots, she heard screams, Francie's screams. Waking up suddenly, she found herself tangled in arms and under several blankets that adorned her bed. Vaughn kept his hold tight, and she sank into it, tears still falling down her cheeks. 

"And then I felt so enraged I couldn't look at anyone who knew her. I became angry with myself, my father, Will, Vaughn, the whole world. It felt like everyone was against me, so I shut it out. I'd go running for hours, hoping that the feel of the pavement under my feet would lessen the pain I felt, or drive away the anger. There were times I wouldn't even know what I was angry at, just that I was in so much rage I needed to get away from anyone I could hurt. " There were times she let herself rage out loud, and her father was involved in one of those incidents. 

_"Sydney, you need to stop acting like a child," Jack spat at her, trying to evoke a rage. _

_It worked. "A CHILD? You think I'm acting like a child? Dad, my best friend is dead, and it's my entire fault! In fact, you should be glad I'm speaking to you at all, because it's partly yours as well! You never prevented me from entering this life. This life killed Francie! You know what? I'm done with it. Everything. I swear I'm never speaking to you, Will, or Vaughn again. Because we all killed her. Everyone one of us." She almost slapped him, but held back and stormed away, slamming the door behind her._

"When the rage left me, I felt desperate to get Francie back. I tried everything I could, from resigning to cooking her favorite meals. My last resort was somewhere I hadn't been in 20 years. A church. That is something I still don't understand now, what drove me there. But after praying, I realized there was nothing I could do." Praying had surprised her, because she always saw religion as something people used as a crutch. But she had done it anyway. 

She drove aimlessly, searching for answers and coming up empty. The large sanctuary beckoned to her soul, so she did something she hadn't done in nearly 20 years. She prayed. The pews welcomed her tired body, and she sat there, tears sliding down to rest on her folded hands. "God, I know I have no right to be here, and definitely no right to be asking you of anything, but Francie didn't deserve this. She was a really good person, and I need her back. Will needs her back. Please, give me back my best friend." A few hours passed before she realized she had drifted off to sleep. Rising quietly, she left the dimly lit church and went home.

"After I realized Francie wasn't coming back to me, the depression sunk in. I was tired all the time, and my appetite diminished rapidly. Its strange, I've studied the symptoms of depression, heard of them nearly my whole life, but when it happened to me I was clueless. It took a huge eye-opener to realize what I was feeling was beyond normal grief." The memory came back to her, threatening to tear her eyes and choke her throat. She held back, however, because the CIA didn't need to know everything.  

Her life was pressing a large pillow over her face, slowly suffocating her. That night, it was too unbearable, so she drugged Vaughn before pulling him over to the bed. Their last kiss was gentle and soft, the complete converse of what she was feeling. The glass was frigid and it felt like her fist was resting on ice. "Oh god Francie. I never wanted to put you in danger, and I was selfish to let you get so close to me. I killed you, just like I killed Danny. I have to end this now, so I don't kill Vaughn or Will or anyone else. I love you so much, sweetie."  The words were thick on her tongue, and she gulped as her fist smashed the glass. Vaughn's actions unnerved her, and she listened to his plea with a sinking heart. He wasn't going to let her go easily; that's why she drugged him. In the end, she couldn't sacrifice his life with hers, so she gave in. It was only the next day that she realized how close she had come to making Vaughn feel the pain she bore. Grief. 

             Dr. Barnett raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Can I ask what that eye opener was?" 

Shaking her head, Sydney replied, "That's something I'd like to keep to myself. But it really woke me up, made me see how stupid I was being. Francie wants me to be happy, and she would be down here now, shaking me and telling me to get over it and move on. I love her, she was my only family for a long time, and it was so hard to let go. But, after three months of hardcore grieving, I think I can."

The tombstone was gray marble and the sun's reflection bounced into her eyes. She traced the inscribed lettering delicately, hoping to find words to express her thoughts. "Francie... I'm sorry I've acted like such an idiot. For the longest time you were the only person I could truly count on to be there, and now that you're gone I feel a little lost. Don't worry, I'm starting to get back on track, but losing you was the hardest thing I've ever had to go through in my life." Her hands stopped moving and came to stop on top of the marble headstone. "I love you. Keep Danny company, ok?" Walking away slowly, she looked over her shoulder to the place where her best friend should have been, but there was only an empty coffin. An empty grave.            

"So you think you've overcome your grief?" Dr. Barnett asked with a light smile. 

Sydney smiled in return. "Yes, I think I have."


End file.
